Memoirs of a Listener
by Grimweaver
Summary: Less than a year after the end of the Oblivion Crisis, Malkhai Ale'Zandre slays her way up to the rank of Grand Champion of the Imperial Arena. Unknown to her this work and her remarkable fighting skills have caught the attention of the Night Mother. She instructs the Listener to send out their most valuable Speaker, Lucien LaChance, to invite her to join the Dark Brotherhood.
1. The Initiation - Part I

**21st of Mid-Year, 4E1**

It was six months ago that I finished and submitted my account of the Oblivion Crisis to the Elder Council. Typically I do not allow that much time between journal entries, as writing has always been my way of finding some sense of contentment at the end of each grueling day, but I have kept myself busy at the Imperial Arena as a combatant since the end of the Third Era (marked by the noble sacrifice of Martin Septim and the end of the Crisis).

This evening I left for the ruins of Vilverin, to not just remove myself from the arena's dank and uninspiring environment, but to clear my mind of a burdensome weight.

For last night I killed the Grey Prince.

Up until now he was the Arena's Grand Champion; an exceptional warrior with characteristics that I've come to learn are hard to find in a person here in Cyrodiil. Alas- Rare gems like him, having no place in this great big spit-bucket of a world, are taken out of it sooner than desired or expected.

Before his life was extinguished in one quick twist of the neck, I saw that death had already claimed his spirit. His pride was utterly crushed by the revelation of his true parentage. He couldn't live the rest of his life knowing that he was part vampire, and I couldn't talk him out of his desperate wish to die.

When he said that he feared his father's blood would eventually consume and fashion him into a terror of the night, I found myself unable to argue with him further. Fear and uncertainty is a weakness of the mind that feeds the monster within- he was losing the battle already.

I didn't know Agronak well enough to mourn him, but I felt an itch of pity for the helpless situation his father's irresponsible love-romps put him in, and anger towards the people in town passing around tactless comments about him. Have they no respect for the dead or for the memory of an honorable man?

No. I should've known better than to expect it.

So here I am, downing my third helping of mead while writing this journal entry in the light of a roaring campfire, getting lost between jots in the starry sky of a moonless night.

As if I wasn't troubled enough, there is a steadily growing fear that has been keeping me up four hours past the normal time I turn in for the night.

For the very moment that Agronak's soul left his body a strange sensation I had never felt before crawled into me. I shook it off as paranoia instilled by a rather powerful roar of disapproval from Arena attendees for killing their Champion and taking his place. I know what happens when you earn too much animosity from people- they will likely turn to a certain guild of cutthroats and make arrangements for a surprise visit.

Considering how the general public values combatants, you wouldn't think someone would go that far for revenge against the one who killed their money ticket. I laughed off the notion, but now I have a good reason to be suspicious.

I am being followed.

My keen elven hearing picked up a protruding sound amid that of wildlife scurrying about; footsteps of a humanoid, keeping a cautious distance as he followed me everywhere I went since I left The Merchant's Inn seven hours ago. I can tell you the gender and approximate size of a person just by hearing them walk; large feet, long strides, and tight friction between the ground and the soles of the boots tell me it is a fairly tall and heavy male.

I don't feel intimidated in the least bit. Within the time it takes to blink I have effortlessly killed a lot of nasty beasties bigger than him.

I've been waiting with anticipation since I got here for him to appear before me and strike, pretending to be completely oblivious so that I might catch him off guard and execute a successful counterattack.

But after all this time he hasn't budged from (I am guessing) his spot on a high point upon the littered stone of the ruin.

Aha- perhaps the coward plans to attack me in my sleep!

Fine. I will play your game, assassin. I'll lie back, close my eyes, and listen attentively for your approach. When you're at the right spot I will knock you on your ass!

 **22nd of Mid-Year, 4E1**

I waited for what must have been another hour, almost drifting into actual sleep. I began to wonder if this person knew I was still awake, and if so how on Nirn could he?

I was just on the rift of consciousness when I heard him coming finally. His footsteps, he assumed were undetected, came a fair distance from the north and stopped at the foot of my bedroll.

"HYAA!" I roared as I tripped him onto his back. He landed with a heavy thud and audible grunt.

I then charged forward and wrapped my hands around his throat before he seized the chance to get up. I would like to believe I had him pinned under the weight of my body, but because he was considerably larger than me I will have to humbly admit that the only thing keeping him on the ground was his choice to remain there; he didn't even squirm or grab frantically at my wrists to pry my hands from his neck. A gesture of either 'no contest' or 'I'm not afraid to die', I think.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer." He purred with the most chillingly pleasant voice I'd ever heard, and an unexpected calmness in the face of danger. As he spoke I was able to make out a few details of his face; light stubble, fair skin, and a distinguishing beaky nose. Everything else was difficult to see- the black shadow under his hood kept the upper half of his face concealed. "That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."

"Alright! First things first-!" I growled. "You need to tell me what the hell you're doing here and why you're stalking me! Then, if I am convinced that you are not here to kill me, I will listen to your proposal instead of bashing your skull in! That's not an idle threat- I can and I will if you give me a good reason to!"

"In due time, my dear Child... in due time..." He replied and paused for a hard swallow he tried to quiet. He maintained a calm exterior, but my trained senses noted his tight breathing, racing heart, and scent of tension. "I am Lucien LaChance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and you-"

"Dark Brotherhood! I knew it! I knew one of you goons would pay me a visit sooner or later, but... I expected you to come for my head."

"Rest assured, my dear, I was not sent out to kill you. I came to only speak with you... but I prefer to carry on this conversation without your hands around my throat or your awkward position on my hips."

"Right. Well, I'll let you go, but I will be keeping my eye on you, assassin." I warned, standing up and backing away from him, maintaining a defensive stance. "So go on... say what you have to say."

"We've learned many things about you, Grand Champion." He began after gracefully rising to a straight posture and folding his hands over his chest in a sort of priest-like manner. "You are a killer, taker of life, harvester of souls. The Night Mother has observed your work and is most pleased. That is why I am here tonight. I come to you with an offering- an opportunity to join our rather unique Family."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! My old and fearsome adversaries want me to join their ranks? They really must be getting desperate for numbers.

"Pffftahahahaha! Oh sweet irony!" I blasted into the sky with several loud snorts. The way it echoed about made it sound like the very ruins had joined in on the laughter.

"Irony?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Of all people you could choose to recruit..." I began. But before I finished the sentence it occurred to me that Lucien may have only known about Arena affairs and nothing of the life I lived prior to the Oblivion Crisis. Thinking it was better that he did not know, I attempted to recover. "Last year I was given the task of assisting Cyrodiil with the Oblivion crap, now I am being asked by The Dark Brotherhood to potentially kill the people I helped save."

"Haven't you been doing that already?"

He made a good point, but I remained in stubborn denial. I shook my head and I plopped onto a chair next to the fire.

"Surely, Mr. LaChance, being a combatant doesn't make me a murderer!" I laughed again before opening another bottle of mead and taking in a couple hefty gulps.

"The Night Mother seems to think otherwise."

"Hmf... The Night Mother. Y'know the timing of her piqued interest is intriguing. Why tonight? Why not decades ago when I killed a man for the first time?"

"I can't answer that for you, Child. I can only say that her timing, while often puzzling, is always perfect."

"Of course." I said with an eye roll. All the priests say that about the Aedra when we question the curious lack of divine intervention.

"It is up to you alone to decide whether you want this life or not." He continued, walking in a slow and smooth pace around of the campfire, maintaining just enough distance to avoid complete consumption of light. "But before you make that decision you should ask yourself this: 'What do I have to look forward to in the one I have right now? Should I take the chance to be a part of something truly special, or continue on with this hollow routine?' It's certainly worth giving a lot of consideration."

He completed a full circle as he inched over to me and knelt down to a humble level at my feet, as if to propose marriage. I am convinced that this was deliberate- Speakers, I gathered during my previous career, are notorious for using their irresistible charm and good looks to recruit new members.

'Charming' is an understatement to describe this particular Speaker, and I must say that what I could see finally in proper light was the full glory of a very handsome man. He wasn't terribly young, but the subtle hints of an approaching middle age actually flattered the overall structure of his strong profile. His brown eyes, enriched by the light of the fire, stared softly up into mine as he continued to use the power of velvet words and movements to soothe out my inhibitions more efficiently than a Stout of Dibella.

"I have a good feeling about you. I am certain that you will arrive at the realization that this is your destiny; when you do, you will take the first step of this journey by going to the Inn of Ill Omen, traveling south on the green road. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete." He brought out from an inner pouch of his robe a beautiful ebony dagger, smelling fresh from the fire used to forge it, and held it out delicately in his gloved hands. "Perhaps with this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade and thirsts for blood."

"It is indeed." I replied, so dumbfounded by a generosity I originally believed was almost nonexistent that I wasn't sure if I should take it. Usually I would have to do someone a favor before receiving such an item. After he insisted with a light motion of his hands, I finally took the dagger and examined its fine details. My primary weapon of choice are my own two hands, but I do like to keep a blade with me as backup- until then all I had was a rusty iron dagger, so this was as welcoming as a Winter Solstice morning.

"Why does Rufio have to die?" I asked.

"If you must know, he is wanted for the murder and rape of a young woman in Bravil. Her parents grew desperate for justice, and after their Count failed them they called upon the one true power that will ensure that wretch does not evade bloodprice."

To this I just nodded, letting this information and inspired outrage seep in.

"Do this," he continued, "and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new Family."

Throughout the entire time we chatted up I was overcome by a strange power that weakened my stubborn resistance to his dark will. I hate that I loved what he was doing to me, and that it caused an itch of inclination to do as he asked simply because I found his company and overall being alluring enough to kill for.

I'm not that kind of woman! I will not be swayed by a pretty face! I told myself as I tried to shake off the charm.

"Maybe if I'm bored enough." I said with a shrug.

"Heh. Yes, well... that is one of my favorite ways of dealing with boredom." He replied with an airy chuckle. "Now... as much as I love the refreshingly pleasant avenue our conversation has turned into, I'm afraid I must take my leave. There are important matters that I must tend to, and you should try to get some rest."

"Well I do appreciate the offer and the lovely gift, Mr. LaChance. As a token my appreciation-" I walked over to the large bag made of repurposed sack cloth near my bedroll to fetch a purse of chocolate candy and returned with it held up to him. "-take this for the road. It's not much, I know, but it's the only luxury I've been able to afford lately. It's not enough to thank you for the dagger, but perhaps for being the first individual I've had the pleasure of talking to in a long time."

"Uh..." The Speaker froze and stared at the purse with the most peculiar look on his face I never would've expected someone to give a simple cluster of sweets. He then looked up from the purse and into my eyes with what looked like quiet suspicion before taking the gift and chuckling under his breath. "On the contrary, my dear... you have given more than you know."

What does he mean by this? I wondered.

He didn't explain, and I didn't bother to ask, because my want for sleep grew stronger than my curiosity.

"Thank you, Ms. Ale'Zandre." He said with a warm smile while clutching the purse tightly. "I bid you farewell and safe travels, and I do hope that we meet again soon."

Using an invisibility spell, he vanished from sight, leaving me with a head filled to the brim with contemplation over what I considered a fateful decision. I couldn't help feeling like I was teetering on the edge of the straight and narrow, about to alter my alignment completely, even though I knew better than to think of it that way.

I am currently at the Faregyl Inn, jotting everything down at the desk of the room I rented. I've traveled south on the green road, as instructed, minutes away from my destination. Yet I am still not sure if I am going to go through with this. It'll mean that I have sealed my alliance with the Dark Brotherhood.

THE DARK BROTHERHOOD!

No more than fourteen months ago I didn't even dare to dream of giving this a second of thought.

What exactly do I hope to find within this guild? Maybe what I've never found among 'honest' ones. Maybe I want to see if they are truly like a family. Maybe I am in dire need of a new horizon or a purpose beyond killing for entertainment. Most likely all of the above and then some.

Another long day of traveling and weighing options has exhausted me. Time to turn in for the night.

 **(End of P1)**


	2. The Initiation - Part II

27th of Mid-Year, 4E1

I left Vilverin having little opinion of Sithis and The Night Mother. I've seen the power of both Aedra and Daedra at work, but never that of the unique spirit beings he spoke of. So it's needless to say I had no intention of killing Rufio to satisfy them, thinking only about the inviting promise of better quarters, meals, and company. But while I am skeptical about these revered figures, I have no doubt that some sort of power is at work in my mind, and suspect it is the Speaker's. It lingers like an aggressive hangover throughout each day, feeding the inclination to continue southbound. Memories of his silken words and movements had collaborated to inspire some of the most obscure dreams that would make even Sanguine blush.

This is how they get you. I told myself, trying to shake it off again. He is a Speaker because he is good at tempting even strong-willed people like you, making you feel valuable and exceptional when all you really are to them is another number.

Every morning I was filled with inspired enthusiasm. Apprehensions that attempted to crawl back in were overpowered by a desire for someone I barely know or trust. I grew fearful of where it was going to lead me.

Even when I at last stood at the entrance of the Inn of Ill Omen I argued with myself over whether or not I should go through with it. It was not like all the other times I was ordered to take a human life- this was a covenant kill, a declaration and vow of unwavering loyalty to this fearsome lot.

"Hey there, welcome! The name's Manheim Maulhand! What can I getcha, m'lady?" The innkeeper beamed, almost immediately after I entered.

"Well..." I began, thinking for a moment about how I could get Maulhand to reveal the exact whereabouts of Rufio in a way that was not suspicious (I really should've thought more about that on the way there, but whatever- I can improvise just fine).

A tickling idea came to me from the deep vaults of old memories and I continued. "We have a two-thirty-five situation. Do you know what I mean?"

"A... b…by the nine, are you a..."

"Yes... please keep it down. It's important that my cover is not blown. So give me what I need to know."

"Of course well... um... we aren't getting a lot of business this time of the year, but we've got a man downstairs whose been stay'n a long time. I think he might be a shady type, but he's been so good about pay'n me I keep my nose out of his affairs. Is that why you are here? What's he done?"

"I can't disclose that information. What you need to know is that if you cooperate and let me do my job there will be no problems, and I will make sure that you are compensated should anything get… messy."

"M-m-messy? By Sheogorath's cheese sticks, it must be worse than I thought! I won't be in trouble for letting him stay here will I?"

"You will not be as long as you do not intervene. And do not breathe a word of this to the public. Whatever happens let me take care of it."

"Certainly, Ma'am."

I was empowered by a treasure trove of knowledge that I had acquired during the last several years of my service; of secret codes and passwords used to gain access to many things in Tamriel that would remain forever untouched by those who did not know them. Because I gave the innkeeper three numbers I was free to kill. Maulhand believed that I was a member of the Imperial Legion- guards would not be called to help Rufio and the knowledge of his violent end would not spread beyond the inn.

Think of the pain he caused that woman. Think of the suffering her family will endure for the rest of their lives... think of that night when this sick oaf would not take 'no' for an answer and proceeded to have his way with her! I thought.

I quietly entered the room bellow and approached the slumbering man. As I got closer my heart began to pound so hard that I could feel its every beat in my head. My chest swelled with nettled anxiety as two opposing voices in my spirit continued to war with each other.

This could mean giving up the blessing of Akatosh. I thought.

What blessing? The other side argued. Nothing has changed since Dagon's defeat! Considering everything that has happened so far, it's difficult to believe that divine powers are at work. My mind is made up. I've decided!

I could've ended it right then and there, but a quick and relatively painless death was too good for a miserable wretch like him.

"Rufio." I growled at the old man, but he just snored on without even flinching.

Taking note of the piles of glass bottles scattered around the room I gathered waking him up was going to be difficult. No wonder this was my first task- for anyone, even those who are not trained killers like myself, it was ridiculously easy.

"Get up, you sod'n sack of guano!" I roared as I kicked him off the bed.

"Wha? Huh? W-what's going on? Who're-?" He cried as he flailed and stumbled about, searching the room through squinty eyes that grew wide with horror once they found me. "What're y'doin… what's g-going on…? You got the wrong guy, I didn't do anything!"

"LIAR!" I bellowed. I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him with full force into the wall. "I know what you did! You just couldn't take rejection like a real man and forced yourself on that poor young lady, then murdered her!"

"Oh Please! I beg you! I am sorry! I'm sorry! I-"

"Alas, being sorry will not undo what was done!"

"Neither will killing me!"

"True, but it'll ensure that the world has one less disgusting bastard like you roaming free!"

"NAAOOOO-aaaaaaggh!"

I grabbed him by what was left of his hair and repeatedly bashed his face in with a bedpost until his gurgled screams stopped, then finished the job with the dagger Lucien gave me. As his last breath bubbled through the blood that oozed out of his neck, I slowly breathed out the tension from my system.

It is done. The new chapter in my life has begun. There's no going back now.

I was true to my word. I cleaned up the mess and gave Manheim gold for a new bed.

"Sorry for the ruckus, Mr. Maulhand. I'm not supposed to say anything but Rufio was wanted for rape and murder. You know what the penalty is for that, right?"

"Oh my…y'yes."

"Just doing my duty... I hope you understand."

"I do."

"Good... well good luck to you and your business. I shall send people your way, alright?"

"Oh... well... thank you, ma'am. That would help out a lot."

"Farewell, citizen."

Keeping a serious face from cracking into a wicked expression pained me to tears- the muscles around my face were sore from all the laughter that bumped and pushed beneath the solemn surface.

He fell for the whole thing. I sure hope to whatever being truly watches over me that many more people involved in my future contracts are that gullible!

I thought it unsafe to rest at his inn, so I continued down the Green Road without stopping until I reached Bravil. I used what remained of my gold to rent a decent room with a tub so that I could wash away the blood and warm my aching muscles. Because adventurers such as myself frequent the Silver Home on the Water, seeing someone dirty and bloodied raised no suspicions.

Once alone with nothing but my thoughts in a quiet room I grew ill with regret for my inability to resist temptation and fear for what that fateful decision may cost me. I contended with every 'what will…?' and 'why did…?', reminding myself that this does not have to be a lifetime commitment.

No matter what, if I find this guild too cramping for my liking I will leave, and nothing will stop me; not Lucien, not the Black Hand as a whole, not even their precious deities! I've been to Oblivion and back- I fear nothing!

The solution to this maddening conflict within is what I like to call "Liquid Apathy"- beer, wine, or anything else that can still the whirlwind of fear and anxiety. It was a bad idea to nurse the mead while lying in the tub, but I was too desperate for mental peace to consider the danger of it.

Before long I had emptied three bottles and found a perfectly happy place at last. I smiled, thought about all the delightful possibilities that awaited…

…then blacked out.

I came to when the pale light of a fresh morning entered the room- though dim, it was offensively bright to my eyes. The stupefying pain it caused burrowed its way through their sockets and into my head.

After about ten minutes of sluggish rolling around and groaning I finally sat up, but continued to curse the sun under breath while rubbing my temples, completely oblivious to the other presence in the room that had waited patiently in the darkest patch of shadow for my wake.

"So... Rufio lies dead." I heard him say with a warm and welcoming tone. "Well done."

When my eyes adjusted I found the source of the voice. Sure enough it was Lucien, sitting neatly in a chair with his hands folded over his lap, near the foot of the bed.

"Oh... hi… yeah…" I groggily replied in a rough tone- my throat was sore and parched, as though I had swallowed a handful of sand. "But h… how do you…?"

"How do I know this? All I can tell you at this point is that nothing of you is unknown to the Dark Brotherhood, for you are now part of the Family."

"Hmmm…" I said with a long stretch and yawn. "…lovely."

"Indeed." He said behind a hand clasped loosely over his mouth, like he was trying to hide and wipe away the impish grin I caught. Confused by this and his breaking of direct eye contact, fixing his gaze upon the wall far to his left, I looked down and realized finally that I wasn't exactly ready for company. I frantically pulled the sheets up to my neck with a hot blush rushing to my cheeks.

"Oh… um… s-sorry…I… I m…meant to be um… properly dressed for this meeting… but I.. agh…" I stuttered, then tried to recover the hazy memory of what happened after renting the room. "I… must've passed out some time la… but I wasn't here- I was in the t… so did you-?"

Lucien simply nodded, then rose up from the chair and walked over to the table at the opposite end of the room, whereupon a travel-size alchemy kit had been set up and used.

"Um… that really wasn't necessary. Not to sound ungrateful, but all you had to do was wake me up- I would've done the rest."

He shook his head and chuckled. "My but that must have been very potent mead. You remember absolutely nothing about last night, do you?"

"I remember falling asleep. After that... nothing."

"You required more than just waking, as you did not just pass out. You went under."

"What? So I almost…?"

"Mmhmm."

"And you…?"

"It really should not surprise you." He replied while pouring what looked like hot stew into a ceramic mug. "You are now part of the Family. A true Brother does not let his Sister drown, nor does he leave her alone while rendered vulnerable to the advantageous lot that tend to gravitate towards this inn."

"I am further in your debt, Speaker." I sighed.

In a slow and careful pace he walked directly over to where I remained sitting on the bed and handed the mug to me.

"Here. It will rid you of that dreadful dizziness and throbbing headache."

"What's in it?"

"Honey, ginger root, dried orange, dragon's tongue, and the faintest whisper of mint."

"Oh… wow… thank you."

I smiled and brought the cup up to my lips. The beverage was yet too hot to drink, but its powerful aroma awakened my senses and wits as I breathed it in. In response to my expression of gratitude he bowed his head with a small grin, but it disappeared the moment he looked down at the small pile of empty bottles.

"There… certainly is much to discuss, Ms. Ale'Zandre." He said. "Unfortunately I do not have time to cover it all in one visit. For now, I will simply give you these instructions… that is, if you have a sound mind that will retain in all."

I nodded. "It's clearing up. Go on, Mr. LaChance."

"As a Speaker of the Black Hand I oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contracts given. Go to the abandoned house in the city of Cheydinhal and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question, to which you will answer: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' Ocheeva will be there to greet and speak with you."

"Cheydinhal, abandoned house, 'Sanguine My Brother', Ocheeva. Got it."

"Good. Now… I must be off to tend to other matters. When I am permitted to retire I will return to Cheydinhal and go over other important details with you at the sanctuary. Until then… good luck- may the Dread Father guide and protect you."

"Thanks again for everything, and safe travels."

"You are most welcome… Dear Sister." He purred before leaving through the door.

Now, I've grown distrusting of other people, especially after learning of the Imperial Legion's deepest and darkest secrets, so I can't help feeling overly suspicious of his actions and generosity. Regardless, I look forward to meeting the rest of this Family. And I can't deny that, above all else, I desire to see and speak with LaChance again.

End of Part 2


	3. Welcome to the Family - Part I

**30th of Mid-Year, 4E1**

The original plan was to stay at The Silverhome for a full week before leaving. It was unwise to head out before resting up fully, as the road to Cheydinhal was long and dangerous. But because I never received the expected payment for Rufio's death, I had to take back a portion of the deposit from the innkeeper so that I could afford the trip. It never crossed my mind to ask Lucien about it until he was long gone and he never brought it up- at the most opportune time I couldn't think beyond the lulling comforts he provided, and I can only assume that it somehow managed to slip his mind.

Sure, I was a little irritated at first, but thinking back on what he did for me and the trouble my foolishness might have caused him, I felt that I owed him some patience.

On the way to Cheydinhal some memories of what occurred between revival and blacking out again came to me. You know how it is when you cannot remember what you dreamed about the instant you wake up, but you are reminded by real life encounters with connectable sights, sounds, and maybe even scents throughout the rest of the day- maybe not the whole dream, but enough of it to know what it was about. It was like that- except, of course, it was not a dream.

The dagger catching the light of the sun reminded me of when I was lying on my side and coughing so hard that every muscle in my body burned, because it was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

Breathing in the wind that swept down from the northeastern slopes, carrying a fragrance unique to the wilderness of that region, unlocked the memory of my head resting on his forearm as he tried to sit my limp body up- I had taken in that same scent while my face was practically buried between his shoulder and chest.

Then there was a rather strange connection between biting into a fresh red apple and the very second I was revived- I'm sure that, after the full recollection is pieced together, this will make sense to me.

That's really all I can remember- I think my eyes were closed most of the time, so I will have to rely mostly on familiar sounds and scents to trigger the rest. Perhaps it's enough to know that he saved my life, did not help himself to my bare and vulnerable body, and watched over me until morning. I should spare myself further embarrassment by allowing that which is not known stay unknown.

I arrived in town on the 29th of Mid-Year, but decided to stay at the Newlands Lodge until midnight. After all that walking and entanglements with bandits, beasts, and the elements I was in neither shape nor the mood for a first meeting. I didn't know what was expected of me, but I felt the need to present myself well, and I didn't think that could be accomplished if I looked like I had just wrestled with a family of boars and smelled like rotting fish marinated in sock sweat. I am sure that is why Dervera gave me that funny look when I checked in.

I have visited Cheydinhal a few times before, so I was already aware of the Abandoned House LaChance spoke of. Never before did I give much thought to why it had remained a hollowed out shell of the home it used to be for twenty or so years. There was always something more important for me to focus on than an old and rundown structure. But once I was instructed to seek it out, it was all I could think about. I began to wonder about the locals and their count- surely by now they should be at least suspicious. Who knows, perhaps they are fully aware of the Dark Brotherhood's 'secret' residence and are either too afraid to speak up about it, or paid well for their silence and cooperation. I'm sure I will find out soon enough.

Once through the front entrance, and down the hallway that led to the basement, I beheld the 'Black Door'- engulfed in an intense red light and emitting a rhythmic and otherworldly drumming sound. I found myself lost in the artwork carved into it, trying to make sense of what I was seeing- I'm sure that the elf woman is supposed to be the Night Mother, as for the children and why she has a dagger held up… well, I'd like to believe that they represent all who have and will become assassins of the Dark Brotherhood, and she is protecting them.

"WHAT… IS THE COLOR… OF NIGHT?" I heard a voice call out. I knew I was going to be asked a question, but I was not ready for the door itself to ask it- I, a grown woman, almost piddled on spot.

"S…Sanguine, m-my Brother." I replied, clutching my shirt over where my heart hammered wildly against my chest, as the door then opened itself.

"WELCOME… HOME."

"Th… thanks?" I stuttered, then cautiously entered the Sanctuary.

True that it was a representative that came to me on behalf of the Night Mother, inviting me to become a member of this Family- that I established a covenant with them through Rufio's death, and he trusts me well enough to permit my access to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. I still felt like an intruder.

Much to my surprise, right at the end of the hallway proceeding the Black Door was a female argonian dressed in standard Dark Brotherhood armor, ready to greet me as though she somehow knew I was going to enter that very second.

'…nothing of you is unknown to the Dark Brotherhood, for you are now part of the Family.' I remember Lucien saying back in Vilverin, and at that time I thought it was hogwash.

So it is true. I thought. Then if they haven't already, they will eventually know about…

I brushed off the crawling paranoia and focused on the present moment, entering the Main Hall and returning the argonian's warm smile.

"Sincerest greetings and welcome to our Sanctuary, dear Sister!" She beamed, with arms wide open.

"Thank you. You must be Ocheeva." I replied, allowing her to embrace me.

"I am! And you are Malkhai… that's how you pronounce it, right? Almost like the mineral?"

"Yes, perfect. But how did you-"

"Lucien told me all about you, and I must say he described you perfectly!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, as my eyes nervously searched around for him. My stomach knotted up and my cheeks grew sore with another burning blush. "So he's here already?"

"Not at the moment. He dropped in several hours ago, sparing only enough time to give me a few important details. The Black Hand keeps him very busy- he isn't here very often, and when he is it is usually for a short while. I've been appointed Mistress of the Sanctuary- he trusts me to keep things in order during his absence."

"Ah." I gulped, thinking about the next major concern. "What exactly did he tell you about me?"

"Heh- don't you worry, Ms. Ale'Zandre. He said nothing but good things. You must've made quite an impression."

"I… suppose." I shrugged, then thought back to everything that had happened since our first meeting, searching for anything I might have said or done that was worthy of high opinion.

"Now then… normally we'd give a new recruit an assignment right away, but the Speaker is going to have to go over a few things with you first. So until then, just relax and help yourself to anything you need. The others are out and about with their own work, but they'll all be here tomorrow evening for sure." Ocheeva almost turned to leave, but a sudden thought stopped her. "Ah… but first, I should show you to the Living Quarters. There is a gift waiting for you there."

Another gift? I thought. They keep doing these things for me, and all I've done for them so far is complete one binding contract.

I followed Ocheeva through the large double doors off to the right-hand side. The hallway snaked down to a fairly large room, with several twin beds off to the right and a large dining area on the opposite side. We stopped at the bed in the far corner, whereupon a large rectangular package wrapped in burlap had been placed.

"That?" I asked.

Ocheeva nodded. "This will serve you well, should you encounter any contracts that require utmost stealth and discretion."

"Thank you, Ocheeva."

"You are so very welcome, dear Family member." Ocheeva paused to heave a long sigh as she looked back toward the hallway. "My apologies- as much as I'd love to explain more, I have a lot of work of my own to do that should be finished by morning. But if you have questions or concerns do not hesitate to come to me. I'll be in my quarters."

I bowed with a smile before she left, then turned back to the package.

The reality of my place within the Dark Brotherhood truly began to sink in when I unwrapped the gift. It was official Dark Brotherhood armor, as new as the Blade of Woe was on the night it was given to me.

Included was an envelope with my full name written in bold and elegant lettering. I pulled out the letter and began to read it.

Dearest Malkhai,

If you are reading this, it means that prayers for your safe journey have been answered. I trust that you were welcomed by your new Family with wide open arms and the eagerness to assist you.

 _This is standard issue armor of the Dark Brotherhood. It is enchanted with a light deflection spell and custom-made to ensure that it is as comfortable as it is sturdy and strong- if something doesn't fit right let Ocheeva know. Adjustments can be made, and it will not cost you anything._

 _It's highly recommended that you wear it while carrying out your orders, but know that in most cases you are not required to. Don whatever armor you believe serves you best, but do reserve this for special assignments that demand representation of the Dark Brotherhood._

 _Oh the many things I could cover in this letter, but it is perhaps better to save it for the evening I return, which will be the 30th of Mid-Year._

 _I look forward to speaking with you again, Dear Sister. Dread Father be with you._

 _~Lucien LaChance_

"By Nocturne's tits, that's tomorrow...er...later tonight!" I gasped. My heart leapt into my throat and the palms of my hands began to sweat- as if I wasn't stirred up enough by receiving a warm and flowery letter from the entrancing rogue.

I would've liked to try it on, but knowing that there was a big day ahead I decided to catch up on all the sleep I'd lost while trying to get myself here (After, of course, taking the time to make this entry.)

I believe I have covered all the important details- I may have missed a few things, but if I can't remember them they were not important enough to include.

Time to turn in.


	4. Welcome to the Family - Part II

**30th of Mid-Year, 4E1**

I was gradually awoken by the clanking sound of ceramic cookware, low whispers bouncing off the stone walls, and the steady rise of a stomach-churning aroma of baked delights. The rest of the Family members had gathered at last-though I wanted to get up and meet them all, I ached more for rest. The bed was far more comfortable than it looked, so much that I was content to stay melted into the soft sheets and fluffy pillow for a few more hours. That is, until I heard someone make some noise about it.

"Still out like a light." I heard someone say. "It's almost six past midday! Shouldn't we wake her up?"

"No, Gogron… let her sleep a few more minutes." Another said.

"Wha? si…. six past-?" I cried, then made myself dizzy by sitting up too fast. "How did that happen?! So sorry!"

"Relax!" Ocheeva laughed. "We're just astonished that you had slept like a log this whole time. Did they never let you sleep at the Arena?"

"Oh…um…heh… yeah but not on anything this comfortable. Fer the last um… six'r seven months… nothing but bedrolls."

"You poor dear!"

"It's alright… you get used to it." I sort of lied.

I looked around and noticed that the dining table was being set up already- a wave of dread swept over me, realizing that the Speaker was due to be there soon. I excused myself and made a hasty beeline to the washrooms, where I changed into the usual quilted doublet and tan skirt. As I walked back out to join the group, I was startled by a young blond-haired woman running up to me.

"I just can't believe it's you!" She cried. "My name is Antoinetta Marie! It is so nice to meet you at last! I am a fan- fancy that you became our new Sister! Oh! This is just fantastic!"

"Thank you. Nice to meet you." I replied, allowing her to give me a tight hug.

"Dragonheart! Oh! I just love that name! How'd you come up with it?"

I shrugged. "It just came to me… the word 'dragon' seemed to have significant meaning for some reason."

"I know why!" I heard a loud and heavy voice pipe in. Out from behind a pillar a giant orc emerged and stepped forward. "Hey, the name's Gogron gro-Bolmog! I'm also a fan. I'd hug you too, but Ocheeva told me not to- hehehehe!"

I could see why.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said with a smile and a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Gogron. Malkhai Ale'Zandre."

"Yes, yes… we've all learned your name. I also know that you are the Hero of Kvatch as well! I betcha you got dragons on the brain after that whole Akatosh thing- that's why you call yourself 'Dragonheart'!"

The whole room gasped.

"Hero of Kvatch? YOU?" Cried Telaendril, the little bosmer lady. "The One that Closed the Oblivion Gates? The Champion of Cyrodiil? The—"

"Yes." I replied with a forced smile.

I had hoped that my contribution to "The Jaws of Oblivion" (One of a dozen or so books based on the event) would be the last time I ever had to tell the story. I grew tired of having to repeat it- I dodged the Happy Hour folk in the pubs and inns, walked the streets at dusk under cloak, then tried to disappear altogether by holing up in the Imperial Arena. How ironic that for the first time in years I had something to say that was worth listening to, yet all I wanted to do was cease to exist until I could recover from the ordeal- I had just spent several weeks running from one place to the other, getting very little sleep, fetching items for people too lazy or busy to do get themselves, and then watched as Martin Septim sacrificed himself to save all of Tamriel. I wanted to tell everyone who asked to read the blasted book if they wanted to know so badly, and leave me alone to reflect and mourn.

But I want this group to trust me as much as I want to trust them, even if it meant breaking the ice by telling it for about the hundredth time. I did, of course, exclude details that would raise suspicions about prior affiliations. And since it was apparent that they all had a morbid sense of humor (judging by some reactions to gruesome parts), I couldn't leave out the one hilarious story about the Dremora.

"…so… haha… so I punch him so hard he staggered back… into one of the mines lying about the pathway!" I laughed.

"OH! He stepped on his own trap! I love it when that happens!" Said the argonian male, whose name I learned is 'Teinaava'.

"It gets better! His body… hehe… went flying into the air… and… hehe… and came down on another mine—then…hahahaa… that mine blew him into another one, then another one, then another—finally it stopped when what was left of his body fell into the lava! Nyyrrooom—SPLASH! HAHAHA! It was the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life, and it's such a shame I was the only one to witness it!"

Now, while the story was amusing it was not what lit up the table with knee-slapping, side-popping laughter- it was laughter itself, as both Gogron and I had an out of control snort fit between bursts. What's worse, Antoinetta is a 'wheezer'.

I arched back and shot a mad cackle at the ceiling, then caught a black figure off to the left that I hadn't seen there before and turned my head to look.

Upon the realization that it was Lucien, a sudden panic swept through me and crippled my balance. I let out a loud gasp and fell back onto the stone floor. An already riled up group busted gut over it- even a warm chuckle fluttered out from the Speaker's throat as he smiled down at me.

"Ehehe…heh…um… hello… w-when did you get here?" I asked him, wiping the tears out of my eyes and trying to regain seriousness.

"When Martin asked you to collect the Armor of Tiber Septim."

"Wow. That was a while ago." I said, climbing back onto the chair while facing him directly. "I can't believe I didn't notice… ahem… um… anyway, nice to see you again Mr. LaChance."

"Nice to see you, Ms. Ale'Zandre." He purred, then turned his attention to Ocheeva at the opposite end. "I apologize for the lateness, my dear. But certain duties kept me away for longer than I anticipated."

"We understand- no need to apologize, sir."

Ocheeva stood up to grab the first of several dishes to go around the table. My but the food smelled so delicious- I can scarcely recall the last time I had anything straight from the cookfire. Warm and fluffy potato bread, honey-glazed boar, lemon seared salmon, potato and cabbage stew, chicken dumpling soup with carrots and peas, so on and so forth- oh but it was as much of a relief to the gut and soul as it was to the eyes!

Long into the late night the entire Family continued to exchange stories and jokes, and I got to learn a few names and basic details about each individual. I tried to distribute an equal amount of interest to everyone, yet LaChance's presence had such a strong gravitational pull on my mind that I had difficulty paying much attention to what everyone else was saying.

While the others filled the room with their voices as they yacked away, he just listened quietly while taking neat bites from his plate and sipping his tea, responding every so often with a faint smile or short commentary. What a stark contrast to the LaChance I knew in Vilverin and Bravil. But the way he would look through a person rather than at them gave the impression that it wasn't because he didn't care to engage with the group; there was something weighing heavily on his mind this evening.

"Haha! Oh… I sure do like our new Little Sister, Lucien!" Gogron said with a mouth stuffed with food, spraying his area of the table with little bits and pieces. He reminded me of the time I watched a squirrel shove too many nuts in his mouth. "I am so glad that you saved her!"

"Oh!" I blushed, turning away from him and looking directly at Lucien. "He told you about all that, huh?"

"No…" Lucien answered, shooting a glare at Gogron over the rim of his mug, then at the Mistress. "…he told Ocheeva."

"I only told Vicante!" Ocheeva insisted.

"And I told no one!" Vicante said.

"I overheard it and told Gogron." Antoinetta confessed. "What's with all the hullabaloo? I think what he did was admirable- what any good Speaker would do for one of his own! It didn't sound like a hush-hush detail to me!"

I was too embarrassed to give a response, so I just turned my eyes down at the plate without a word and picked away at the peas with my fork.

"Um… anyway…" Gogron went on, pausing to swallow and belch before loading his fork with another large chunk of boar meat. "…Lucien said you almost drowned, but never told us how that happened. Were you fight'n something? Like werewolves? Trolls? Mudcrabs?"

Much to my relief, it seemed that Lucien had left out all the embarrassing parts of the story.

"Demons." I answered, after thinking about it carefully for a few seconds. "I uh… wasn't strong enough to fight them… the uh… potions I used while combating them… did more harm to me than good."

I looked back at Lucien, who simply closed his eyes and nodded in approval.

"Huh! Those buggers can sure put up a nasty fight! Luck was on your side though- they usually burn their victims to a crisp! Can't very well resuscitate a pile of ashes now, can ya?"

"Hehe… yeah… well… you'd be right about that! His name does mean 'The Luck'!" I laughed. Oh that was so corny, but it got a few good chuckles, especially from LaChance.

"Very good, Ms. Ale'Zandre." Lucien said with a smile, then changed the subject. "Oh… by the way… I've been meaning to ask you, Teinaava…"

After a while the food was reduced to sparse table scraps and the group began to disperse one by one. Nearing ten o' clock, when it had been whittled down to just the two of us, it was decided that the casual Family get-together had officially come to an end.

"Well…" He said to me, wiping his mouth softly with a napkin before folding it and placing it on the table. "I believe it is time that we have that discussion now, Ms. Ale'Zandre."

I nodded, then quickly downed the rest of the cider before getting up and leaving the room with him.

"You seem to be getting along well with everyone." He began, as we strolled down the hallway. His pace was slow and relaxed, but he kept a straight posture, with his hands clasped behind his back and head held high.

"Yeah. So far so good, I suppose." I replied.

I'm quite certain that, despite my efforts, I failed to hide signs of the various tensions arising in all sorts of places. Just the sight of this elegant shadow walking beside me made my whole body quake.

"Thank you, by the way." I said in a low voice, after looking about to make sure no one else was around.

"For what?"

"You could've told Ocheeva everything, you had every right to… but you didn't."

"It was not necessary."

"I swear to you, I'd never done anything so stupid like that in my life before, and I never will again."

"I sincerely hope not." He turned his head slightly in my direction, but kept his eyes fixed at the doors ahead. "Considering everything you've been through, all that you've survived, and the promising future that awaits… you should have better respect for yourself."

I froze in my tracks. When he noticed this he stopped and looked back at me with a puzzled expression.

"What all do you know about my past, Speaker?" I asked.

"Apparently… more than you remember." He answered.

What, have we crossed paths before? Do I know you? What on Nirn—!? I wondered.

Sensing that I was about to press him further for a less vague answer, he stopped me by bringing up a hand and veering slightly off topic.

"But we're not talking about your past tonight, Dear Sister." He said, pulling a chair out from a small table he'd set up in between the two pillars and motioned with his hands for me to sit. "We're going to discuss your future. Please, have a seat."

As I did so, he sat in the chair on the other side and took several books out from a knapsack.

"Now… first things first… as a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you must abide by the Five Tenets- they are the laws that guide and protect us."

"Alrighty." I said, then leaned forward on the table and listened attentively.

"The Five Tenets are as follows:

Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother.

Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets.

Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior.

Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister.

Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister.

To do any of the above is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Now… do you have any questions regarding this?"

"Not regarding that." I answered. "It's pretty straightforward and common sense stuff, really."

"But you do have questions."

"Yes. Who is Sithis and the Night Mother, exactly? Or rather, what are they?"

"Hmm… how does one best describe our Dread Father…?" He crossed his arms and leaned back while giving it some deep thought, staring down at the floor as if the perfect description might be written on it somewhere. "Imagine a perfect, cloudless midnight- cold as winter ice and shrouded in shadow. He, whom we call Sithis, has many other names- chaos, doom, discord. He is of the Void… and is the Void." He then laughed at himself. "Sounds like malarkey, I know, but…"

"No… that was very elegantly put... but then just about everything you've said so far has been. It hits my ears like poetry." I admitted. I can't believe I said that aloud.

"Uuheheh... thank you." He chuckled bashfully and tugged at the collar of his hood, then went on. "As for the Night Mother, she is the Bride of Sithis and—as the name should suggest— the Mother of every Family member. Our spirits are sent out into the world from her shadowed womb, destined from the very beginning to answer her call to reunite with our Brothers and Sisters and devote ourselves completely to their will… no matter who we're physically born to or how we are brought up."

She also serves as a mediator between Sithis and their Children. Only the Listener, the highest ranking member of the family below the Matron, hears her voice and receives instructions directly from her. He (or she) then delivers the orders to either of the four Speakers (Or all of them). We are to never deny her or refuse to carry out her orders, because to do so…"

"Will… invoke the Wrath of Sithis." I answered, and dared to imitate him a bit because I'd been in a good jesting mood since dinner.

"Very good." He chuckled.

"Now… it is my understanding that Speakers are like… recruiters… but I take it there's more to them…er.. you…than just that."

"There certainly is. A Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood is a member of the Black Hand—the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. One of my duties is to seek out exceptional individuals, such as yourself, and offer a place within the Family. I am also responsible for the safety, wellbeing, and… occasional reprimand… of every individual that is adopted into this group."

"Heh… like a shepherd that leads the flock… or maybe even, like a surrogate father of orphaned children."

"Yes." His smile grew wide and his eyes softened. "I do like to think of it that way, to be honest."

Lucien placed the stack of books, carefully bound together with twine, upon on the table in front of me.

"It is all in these texts, which I hope you will read through in your spare time. This bit of common knowledge barely scratches the surface, however. There is so much more to tell, but that's information for another time, when you have earned the privilege to have access to it."

Even now there are more mysteries and secrets to learn- how intriguing.

I was a little disappointed when he stood up and turned towards the entrance, thinking that 'going over a few things' was going to take at least an hour.

"It is late." He said. "My but time at the table went by so fast. I do apologize, Ms. Ale'Zandre- I have to cut our time together short again and retire to my quarters."

"Don't worry about it. There's always next time, right?"

"If there is to be a next time it won't come for a few weeks. There is… much work abroad that must be done. Nevertheless, I will be following your progress."

"If?"

"Well... we are assassins. There is always uncertainty."

There was more to it than Lucien was willing to tell- I will try to pry it out of Ocheeva or other Family members sometime this upcoming week.

"Hmmhm. One more thing before I go..." He chuckled lightly under his breath, then brought out a coinpurse from the inside of his robe and jingled it in his hand. "For Rufio."

"Oh!" I gasped.

"Three-hundred Septims. I hope it is enough."

"That's… yes… yes, thank you! I… I did wonder about that… but, after all that had happened, I thought it…"

"It is what you earned, Dear Sister. My sincerest apologies for failing to give this to you earlier."

Lucien walked over and placed the purse in my hand with a couple light pats. "Thank you… for everything."

I caught a flash of a boyish smile before he turned around and disappeared through the doors.

For 'everything'? I wondered. He's been hinting at something and reveling in this head game since the first meeting! What the bloody hell?

It all began to make sense to me when I saw "Divine Indulgence" stamped on the side of the bag, then connected it with things he had said:

"You have given more than you know."

"Thank you Malkhai… for everything."

"BY the GODS! LUCIEN! WAIT!" I cried out, bolting at high speed out of the sanctuary to catch up with him.

But he was already long gone.

Great. I thought, feeling the weight in my head getting heavier. I'll have this stacked on top of thoughts surrounding the contracts I'm going to receive between now and the night he returns!

What is this revelation I am eager to discuss with him, you wonder? That's a whole other story that I have no more energy and time for tonight.

 **End of Part 2**


	5. What Vengeance Wrought - Part I

**5** **th** **of Sun's Height, 4E1**

The next day began in the early hours of the morning; with a hearty breakfast, a cup of strong black tea, and a mind drifting out from the quiet shores of the present and into the raging waves of the past; wherefrom the memory of a traumatic event resurfaced, and with it all the emotions attached to it.

 _The Market District Massacre._

It was the 3rdof Frost Fall, 3E417, three days after my transfer from Solitude to the Imperial City. I decided to spend some of the free time I had in the morning at the Arboretum- having lived in Skyrim since birth without ever visiting other provinces before, I was anxious to take in the surrounding Cyrodiilic splendors.

Because this was a mere break and not a complete relief of my watch I was not permitted to remove my armor or faceplate. In the last dying breath of a summer that had fought to linger a little while longer, I found it most insufferable to wear what would've been more comfortable in my homeland.

But it attracted the attention of one inquisitive lad of about five or six, who seemed quite fascinated by the unique ensemble. He asked at least a dozen or so questions, which I answered with much delight. He was such a sweet and precocious little boy- with a bright innocence in him, shining through eyes wide with wonder and a smile that could melt away rainclouds.

Then I heard a voice call out from behind me: "Aaron!"

I turned around to see a man approaching. At the sight of his very handsome young face my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

It seemed like he was anxious to fetch the boy and head out quickly, but something compelled him to stay and strike up a conversation with me. I believed that 'something' was likely to be Mara's divine nudge, since my soul had sent up a quick little prayer for it.

We talked for a very long time. I can't remember what was said word for word, or even most of what we were talking about- perhaps because I was distracted by not only his aesthetic qualities but by also his elegant character (And because this was over a decade ago!).

I was swept up so that I had lost track of time- when I finally thought to glance up at the clock tower I had only about five minutes to get back to my post, which was a seven-minute walk from the Arboretum. Consumed by the dread of being late, I didn't think to ask before leaving for his name and express my interest in getting together the following weekend. I had already made plans to explore the rest of Cyrodiil and discover new delights and entertainment, and surely company would make it ever more enjoyable. I know that may seem a bit of a bold thing to ask someone that I had just met, but within the short time we became acquainted I couldn't help sensing the potential for them to be the family I had faithfully prayed for.

I would've cursed myself for missing the opportunity, but I had a good feeling that it was not the last one- surely we were bound to cross paths again!

How right I was, but it didn't happen the way I imagined it would.

No more than five hours passed when a clamor, unlike anything I'd ever heard before, struck the core of my being. I raced to the Market District through the west entrance, then beheld a horror that would haunt my dreams for years.

The scent and sight of flesh and blood splattered upon the streets; the broken bodies of the dead and dying; loved ones mourning the loss and cursing those who had done this despicable thing.

On my way to the center of this grisly chaos, just passing _The First Edition_ , I was hit with an acidic illness and fell to my knees when I caught the sight of two familiar figures on the ground.

It was Aaron, curled up in the arms of his bereaved father.

" _AAAOOHGAAAHHH'NOOO!"_ I screamed, so loud and hard that it burned my throat and lungs. " _Wha-what happened?_ _What the hell happened?"_

I heard someone say once that it can take only a few minutes for a stranger to become a good friend; for just another face in the crowd to be one that you love and cherish above everything. Because of that little boy I know this to be true.

Aaron's freckled face, filled with a zeal for life only moments ago, was covered in the blood of his fatal abdominal wound. His once soulful green eyes were glazed over with tears of pain and fear of death.

I crawled over and brought out a healing potion from my bag, but it was too late. He was already long gone.

 _"WHO DID THIS?"_ I bellowed again.

Stricken with a grief that I would fail miserably to describe, his father could not give me a verbal response. All he could do was look up at me, with a face reddened by rage and a downpour of tears, and point towards the south end of the district.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I expected them to be members of the obscure Altmer cult that had been causing a lot of trouble in the area at the time. I never would've imagined the tragically ironic twist of them being the very people that had sworn an oath to protect the citizens of the empire.

Imperial Guards.

If I had allowed my emotions to dictate my actions I most certainly would have killed them right then and there, but then I wouldn't have lived much longer myself. Regardless of what they had done to justify that response, they were still imperial soldiers- it would've been considered an act of treason.

I followed procedure in a professional manner, assuring myself that with patience and faith in the emperor's wisdom justice would prevail.

But during their trial it was revealed that these twelve guards (whose names escape me) were under the influence of Skooma. They were convinced by a dealer that the substance was their best answer for their dire need for something to help them stay awake during watch.

While it did help in the way that they had anticipated, the reason for the ban became abundantly clear when they grew exceedingly paranoid and began hallucinating.

When the large and very vocal crowd marched through the Market District with their fists up in the air, it appeared in their eyes to be something like an army of bandits attacking the city. The guards began to swing their swords at everyone within striking range. The crowd then panicked and ran, most of them directly into the deadly path of other drug-crazed guards.

The soldiers' loud and desperate expressions of remorse successfully softened Uriel's rage.

For once I was severely disappointed in the Emperor's gentle and empathetic nature. Although they were severely punished, they were not brought to adequate justice. And while the majority seemed to still love him despite this decision, a great many others were not willing to quietly accept it.

The days that proceeded the massacre, despite the small activity and light chatter here and there, were solemn and surreal. Most of the townsfolk, mourning ceaselessly over their dearly departed, holed themselves up in pubs and private quarters. Where cheerful voices and laughter once filled the streets, there was only the sound of the wind, which too seemed to have a mournful tone.

Everywhere my late hour of watch took me there was a dangerous mixture of anger and sorrow in the air. Numerous individuals who sought comfort in abundant spirits grew rowdy and stirred up chaos. Fights broke out, minor to grave injuries were inflicted, and property was damaged.

My own soul fell prey to the hungry darkness that had devoured everyone else. Thoughts of taking justice into my own hands slowly crawled back in to my mind.

But I had to keep pushing them out- such contemplations didn't bring me comfort, only anxiety over how impossible it would be for me to carry out these tasks without being seen or leaving traces. All I could do was keep myself distracted by duties on hand and pray that these wretched men and women would be somehow dealt with appropriately by the Divine.

Then, after about four weeks passed, I received word that about half of the lot had fallen victim to 'tragic accidents'. Even a fool knew that, due the clear evidence of intent revealed in the timing and manner of each one, someone or something was killing them all off. Every guard died while engaging in the shady activity, so that they weren't just punished for the Massacre but exposed for their even darker truths.

An already divided city was split again over how to feel or what to believe about this mysterious avenger. For a while I didn't know what to think, let alone know how I would react if I had witnessed the next death and see for myself this being that most presumed was a spirit born from the collective anguish and murderous thoughts.

But the moment of truth came when I was forced to make a fateful choice- the ever elusive prowler of the night had finally been caught one evening, after an entire month had passed without a single clue leading the legion in any direction. Unrelenting determination, years of hunting experience, and extraordinary intelligence had made him a successful killer… but being human, he had made one costly human error. At some point he had overlooked an obstacle or something didn't happen the way he had predicted- only he could say what it was exactly, but it compromised what was close to being another flawless kill. Before he could recover and flee the scene, he was tackled and beaten down by a group of imperial soldiers.

(End of Part I)


	6. What Vengeance Wrought - Part II

Coincidentally, the soldiers that had caught the Hunter belonged to the unit I was assigned to, which was sent out to the wilderness of the Heartlands for unrelated matters.

I believe it was the 8th of Evening Star, the night before we were scheduled to return to the city and turn in our report. About two hours into darkness, the first watch descended the steep foothills of the Jerall Mountains, with their loud and meaty voices rippling through the stillness of camp, whilst dragging a man by several nooses around his neck.

"Lieutenant! We got 'im! We finally got the bastard! This time it's really him, I swear it!" One of them bellowed, then gathered the nooses in one hand and pulled the battered man to his knees.  
"Who?" I asked, rising and making my way over to them.  
"The bleed'n Hunter, of course! The sod'n barrel of pigspit that's been offing us!"  
"And how are you so certain it's him?"  
"He was stalk'n Taurlius, and when we caught 'im he was bark'n on about how he killed 'is little whelp and that he was going to pay with his blood, just like th'rest!"  
"I say we chop 'is noggin clean off, right here and now!" Growled another, after drawing his sword and pulling the man's head up by his hair.

That's when I saw his face.

It was Aaron's father.

I shouldn't have been so surprised. He disappeared a few weeks before the guards began to drop like flies, and only someone with his talents had a chance of taking out well-trained imperial guards. One of the things I vaguely remember him talking about during our conversation in the Arboretum was his trade. He had made a living as a huntsman, starting with large sewer rats at about twelve years old. By the time he was twenty he was bringing down trolls, ogres, and other creatures just as large and formidable.

I had a sense that, judging by the way he had carried on about it, hunting was not just a means of living. It was his passion, and may very well have been the lifeblood that flowed in his veins.  
Still, he didn't strike me as a man capable of killing a human being. Sure, I had only known him for about an hour, but I generally need only fifteen minutes with a person to have their sort figure out. I have extensive legion training to thank for this keen perception.

But sometimes, on a rare occasion, I am wrong. This is one of those times.

I let out a sharp and quivering gasp, then staggered a little when the shock of what I beheld weaken my legs.  
"You know this bloke, Lieutenant?" One of them asked, seeing this reaction as well as the rest of them.  
"No." I lied, pushing the emotions back under the surface. "I'm just… I expected him to be older. Who'd have thought the infamous Hunter is a skinny little baby-faced milk-drinker?"

(Why is being a milk-drinker so bad? How is that an insult? Milk makes one strong and healthy. I don't know- there are a lot of strange sayings floating around.  
Anyway...)

I drew my silver short sword and pressed the blade against his neck as I stared into his wide and intense eyes, that began to fill with hurt over this betrayal.  
"The orders were to bring him back alive." I said. "However, we could slice him up and tell the emperor that it's how we found him... in one of those Ayleid ruins- maybe. Yeah. He was looking for shelter and found out too late that it was already occupied by uh... troll! Yeah! Split the rotter eight ways!"

Everyone started laughing. All except, of course, the Hunter.

He didn't make a sound, but struck me harder with a piercing glare under his dark brows than any profane lash from his lips could. As painful as it was for me to watch him wilt under the torrential rollick, I had to maintain the façade so that the other soldiers wouldn't be the slightest bit suspicious of my plan to help him escape.

I ordered them to secure him tightly to the large post of the supply tent, then volunteered to take the first watch over him. When I was sure that they were gone and no longer within listening range, I rushed over to the Hunter and knelt in front of him with a bowl of warm dumpling soup.

"Had you going too, didn't I?" I asked him with a grin.

No response, or even acknowledgment of my presence. He just gave a dead stare to the poorly stacked barrels and crates ahead of him. When he finally glanced down his eyes popped wide open again, but then looked back up at me suspiciously.

"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're wondering." I whispered, then helped myself to one spoonful to assure him of that. "See! Now eat... and don't say anything. We'll talk when we're far enough away from camp."

After helping him down the soup and a loaf of bread as quickly as possible, and washed it down with a healing potion, I started to load several large knapsacks with rations and other essential items. I could see his mind filling up with questions as he watched, but he did as I asked and kept quiet.

I almost decided against heading up to the horses, aware that the nervous ones might start a ruckus over seeing two shadowy figures creeping towards them and waking the other soldiers. But we didn't have the time it would take to get to our destination on foot. We had to risk it.

Peter, the painted steed that had been a good friend and ally since before duty brought me down from Skyrim, was smarter than most horses. His only reaction to the strange man approaching was looking to me for confirmation that he could be trusted. He eased up when I whispered sweetly and gave him a few pats on the neck- seeing him relaxed, the other horses settled back down to sleep.

After we both mounted I had Peter walk at an excruciatingly slow speed until we were too far away for the group to hear his thunderous full gallop. Even as we scaled the road to Bruma we remained silent, keeping an eye out for other imperial soldiers. We couldn't afford to be spotted by even those whom I believed might have also secretly supported the Hunter.

"This is as far as I can go with you." I said to him, stopping at where the road split two ways- one to the city of Bruma and the other to the province of Skyrim. We dismounted to allow Pete a moment of replenishment and relaxation after that rigorous ride up the hill. After leading him to a small pool of water, I clutched the reigns tightly as I looked back at the Hunter, taking a moment to work out the lump of anxiety before continuing. "A hard winter is coming. By the mid of Evening Star there will be enough snow on the roads to discourage travel. So, while the search may not stop, this will delay it. In the meantime, I'll do everything in my power help... I regret to say that I cannot do more than hinder the search, and I don't think I'm going to have enough influence to make much of a difference. But I'll try."

"Why?" He asked, finally. "Why would you go to so much trouble for a stranger?"  
"Because it's the right thing to do. I was afraid to do the right thing in the Market District... I was afraid to do the right thing when justice failed... I can find a way to live with those mistakes, I think... but I know I can't live with what inaction would've done to you. I am not going to sit idly by while the one man that had the courage to take out those bastards goes to the chopping block!"  
"You are mistaken to revere me as a hero. I am not worth what you risk. But I thank you all the same."  
"It's not up to you to determine what's worth risking my life... that's my choice! Now... I have here some potions, food, and..." I brought out a candy bag that I had saved and used as a coinpurse. "Fifty septims. It's all I have on me... I know it's not much, but-"  
"Fif-! My dear, no..."  
"Yes! You will take the gold, and this..." I unbuckled the sword from my belt and held it up to him. "This served its previous wielder well... it served me well... and so I trust that it will do the same for you. But I pray that the only thing you'll have to use it for is slicing watermelons and buttering sweetrolls."

He laughed as he glanced down at the sword with gratefulness visibly filling his entire being.

"This is more than I deserve... but I again thank you wholeheartedly." He said.  
"I ask only this in return..."

It was on the tip of my tongue. I almost said: ' _That I will see you again someday... that we can pick up where we left off at the Arboretum when this whole mess is behind us..._ '

But, considering everything that had been thrown at me since the age of four, it was a safe bet that I would never see him again. It would've been a cruel thing to make him promise the impossible.

"...that you stay safe. Whatever you do... where ever your path leads you... live full and well. I pray that the Nine favor and protect you always."  
"And may the Nine protect you."  
There was another long stretch of silence, but there was mutual understanding that there was so much more that the both of us wanted to say.  
Again, the temptation to heave those words unspoken arose, but I pushed them back and extended my hand for a simple shake.  
But he somehow knew what I really wanted and worked up the courage to give it. He bent down to my level for one light kiss, which led to a longer and more sensual exchange. Because, knowing that it may never happen again, it had to last for as long as it could.

I loved it... and hated it. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing I had experienced in my life. I thought I was going to just melt into the rock he had pressed me against. But it was what made the separation so much more unbearable. I could've stayed there all day just kissing him, but I had to pry myself away. I had to return to camp soon, or else face severe consequences.

"Maybe..." He whispered, when we came up for air finally. "Someday we could... I don't know how... but..."  
"I would like that. I truly would. I hope that the Nine could be so gracious."

After another long kiss, he turned with great difficulty towards the road to Skyrim. I didn't know if he ever looked back, because just as he walked away I mounted Pete and rode back down the hill, determined to fight back the temptation to abandon everything and go with him.

I hoped that he had understood why I couldn't. There had to be at least one decent legionnaire that would put a stop to further corruption... that would work to inspire others to be true to what they were fashioned for. Well, that was my ambition, anyway. Things didn't go in the direction I had hoped they would (that's a whole other story that I don't feel up to writing tonight).

After months passed without a single trace of his existence, I was compelled to seek him out, but I didn't have much to work with. I could've turned to some people with deep roots in the system, but they always need to know why you want extensive investigation done, and then they record every detail of the search. It was better to personally search the long and hard way on my own than turn the attention of the legion on him.  
I had searched the graves for Aaron's headstone, hoping to get his family name (and, of course, pay my respects), but to no avail. Even his son's place of rest was a mystery.

 _"Is he dead?"_ I began to wonder, after about five years passed.

No matter what the truth was, if I had known what it was it would've been easier to find peace- it's the unknown that brings about the most maddening whirl of emotions. Having just recovered from what my father's mysterious disappearance had done to me, I was there again. In a suffocating and dank world of anxiety, breathlessness, depression, and hopelessness.

How can I expect anyone to understand how I could feel so much for someone I hardly knew, when I cannot make sense of it myself? I didn't even know his name!

There was something I had when I was with him... I don't know what it was, but I wanted more of it... I wanted to embrace and hold onto it for the rest of my life.

But it was gone. He was gone. I was alone again, and this time I had no one else to blame but myself.

 _"If he is dead, would I have been able to save his life if I decided to accompany him?"_ Was another question that kept me up many nights, followed by the haunting realization of a mistake I thought I had to live with for the rest of my life… another demon I had to drown with alcohol.

After almost twenty years I managed to conquer this pang of regret and move on. It helped to be distracted by the numerous challenges and adventures that the life of a warrior had thrown at me on a weekly basis. The longer I denied the memory of him the more difficult it became to recall the details of his face- after about ten years, I remembered only that he was very handsome.

But now that I have brought these memories to the front of my mind, I am beginning to see everything more clearly. I remember now the vivid brown eyes, long nose, long black hair- a good portion of the most pleasant of Imperial and Breton attributes coming together to form one stunning creature.

And as I stare at the coinpurse, confirming that it is indeed the very one I had filled with the gold I gave to the Hunter, there is no doubt about it...

The Hunter is alive and well, and he at last has a name.

 _ **Lucien LaChance.**_

(End of Part II)


End file.
